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~*~

Early the previous day, Spike had set his alarm for seven, knowing that he’d need help waking up. Of course, he hadn’t expected to need this kind of help…but still, waking up beside Buffy—even with his alarm clock making his ears ring, even with all the doubts that were still ricocheting inside of him—was heaven.

Buffy, apparently, thought otherwise. “Turn the damn thing off,” she groused, burying her head under her pillow.

“Aw, poor baby,” he teased. “Rough night?”

She lifted the pillow just enough to glare at him. “My best friend devirginized me and now I hurt.”

Despite the fact that he knew she was joking, a pang of guilt ran through him. “Was it so bad?”

Her tiny fist, flying out of the covers to hit him square in the arm, was her answer. “Don’t be a dick. Of course it wasn’t bad.” Again she looked up, this time to stare at him with soulful—and tired—eyes. “But it’s seven in the morning!”

He shrugged carelessly, disguising the guilt that simply wouldn’t leave. “Your point?”

“It’s abominably early. Come back to bed.” She rolled over onto her back, the sheets slipping off and exposing her breasts to the air—and to Spike’s eyes.

“Planning on givin’ me a reason to?” he grinned at her.

She yanked the covers back up and threw the pillow she’d been hiding under at his head. “Pig.”

“Better believe it,” he replied. “And tempting though your invitation is, we really do need to get up. Remember the mess we left downstairs.”

“Ugh. Don’t remind me.” Buffy rolled out of the bed and, once again, Spike felt his eyes drawn to her figure. “There’s the food, and of course there’ll be wax from the candles to clean up…and Xander having hot gay sex with Doyle…”

“Right.” Spike’s eyes stayed riveted on her chest. “Sounds good to me.”

“’k, I’ll just go join the orgy now,” Buffy said cheerfully.

That got his attention. “What?”

“You weren’t listening. You were staring.” She sent him a stern look that somehow didn’t look at all out of place on her young face.

“You’re naked,” he said patiently.

“So?”

“You’re in my bedroom…and you’re naked.” When her look didn’t change, he sighed in mock annoyance. “Cut a guy some slack, luv. You’re beautiful.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” she joked as she grabbed one of his shirts and draped it over herself.

She tried not to think of what Fred’s reaction would be when she came home wearing her rumpled dress.

“’m guessin’ you’re staying then?”

Buffy paused to consider it. Staying over had, in a way, been a massively stupid thing to do. She wasn’t going to kid herself for an instant and think that Fred didn’t know where she was. But since her cousin did know, Buffy didn’t see why she shouldn’t stay. “Looks like,” she said, gracing him with a smile.

“Good.” His hands came round her waist and she leaned into them, sighing happily. Her parents’ reaction, Fred’s inevitable admonishments, a pariah’s greeting on Monday—all of it faded into the background when he neared. “Now, how ‘bout breakfast?”

~*~

Abell stood before the apartment, scratching his head. He could’ve sworn the guy who lived there was single—half the city knew Spike Kingston, which meant that half the city knew he was very much single. But there was some little girl standing next to him in his living room, studying the carpet intently.

Finally she turned to him. “I want the other one,” she announced. “This one’s too squishy.”

Squishy? Did the girl think she was some kind of new age decorator or something? “Sorry, darling, but that’s all we have.”

Her eyes narrowed—and Abell suddenly found himself swallowing hard. She might’ve been young enough to be his daughter, but she wasn’t dumb. “I told the Carpet Emporium that I wanted two options—sky blue and royal blue. The weave in the sky blue carpet is too loose. It’ll get dirt stuck in it way too easily.”

The carpet installer scratched his head. She was a smart little bitch, wasn’t she? “Don’t see how that’s really a problem, you’re not putting it wall-to-wall or anything…”

“I don’t care. You think I’m going to vacuum that much dirt?” She sniffed derisively. “Of course not. Besides, royal blue looks better with my complexion.”

“But—“

“Go. Get. The. Carpet.” Buffy scowled. “Or do I have to call them and tell them your ass is too lazy to haul a roll of carpet up two flights of stairs?”

Abell scowled at her. “Jesus, girl, what is your problem? It’s bad enough that you’re shacked up with some cradle-robbing dickwad, but you’ve gotta harass innocent delivery men, too? They didn’t give me any royal blue carpeting!”

“Dickwad? How about I shove this carpet up your—“

“Buffy.”

Abell’s eyes darted to Kingston. He was focused solely on the girl, Buffy—and who the hell named their kid Buffy, anyway?—but he looked annoyed, and Abell didn’t think it was because his girlfriend had a mouth on her.

“Tone it down a bit, yeah?” Kingston suggested to her, rubbing a hand up and down her arm. Like she was some kinda dog, Abell thought spitefully.

Apparently it worked, though, because when the she turned back to him she looked calmer. “I’m sorry about that,” she apologized, sounding almost—courteous? Damn. They weren’t lying when they said Kingston was a miracle worker.

“Yeah. It’s okay.” He paused before adding, “I really don’t have any royal blue carpet, though.”

“So I’d gathered.” Now she just sounded amused instead of ready to rip his head off. Jesus, was the girl bipolar or something? “You can go ahead and take the carpet back out to your truck. I’ll call Carpet Emporium and make them bring out the right color carpet.” She flounced off into the kitchen, where Abell guessed the phone was.

Kingston sent him an apologetic look. “She’s a bit touchy on account of those fliers.”

“Fliers?”

“You didn’t see ‘em?” When Abell shook his head in negation, Kingston sighed. “It was a juvenile prank carried out by schoolchildren, but somehow half the town are takin’ them seriously. Some ex ‘f hers felt the need to advertise our…intimacy…to the world.”

Well, shit. No wonder the girl was a complete bitch. “He didn’t reach everyone,” Abell reminded him. “Chances are it’ll blow over soon.”

“In the meantime, though, she’s got to put up with the mocking.”

“Talking about me?”

Abell winced; the girl was back. “Uh, no. Kingston was just telling me about that ex of yours. And the fliers.”

The girl—Buffy—winced. “Which I’d prefer never to hear about again,” she said angrily. “It was such a stupid prank.”

“Well, no one’s been talking about it,” Abell said helpfully. “People are probably already forgetting.”

She flashed him a brief smile. “Thanks…and I really am sorry I was such a bitch.”

“Not a problem.” And it really wasn’t, Abell decided. She was a nice kid when she wasn’t biting your head off. He hoisted the carpet up on one shoulder. “I’d best get back to the warehouse,” he said. “Sorry about the mixup.”

Buffy hurried to open the door for him. “It’s really not a problem,” she assured him. “Have a good day.”

“You too.” He paused on the threshold. “And I know not everyone in Sunnydale believes me—but good luck, you two.”

He was pretty sure that they were going to need it.

~*~





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